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Monday, July 2, 2012

For My Mother

Space is the least of what she shared with her mother.

Her greatest treasures born of a will not her own.

A spore will mushroom in the warm shade of the tree.

Carried by the wind and uprooted with ease, she draws every day from the soil.



A poetry prompt from:
the imaginary garden with real toads

This is my attempt at the ancient Koan form of Chinese poetry.

5 comments:

  1. Your metaphor of the mushroom was unexpected and added incredible dimension to the poem as a whole.
    Thank you for participating on Real Toads.

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  2. Very lovely koan ~ The mushroom is a hardy plant, a survivor ~

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  3. This is incredibly deep and shares an entire philosophy in four lines. So well done!

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  4. I love the thoughts of the mushroom and the relationship!
    Fascinating and vivid~ I loved it~

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